We're not on the side of the Angels
by xSaphfirex
Summary: Caring makes you worse off in the end. ALWAYS. Caring makes you break down, when the tom that you are forbidden to love finds a mate. Caring makes you break down when your own litter mates grow together, but away from you. They find new friends. Friends that can give them advice. Friends that fantasize about future mates and one day becoming leader. First ImagineClan challenge


If I were to tell anyone of my dilemma, they would laugh. Brush it off without a second thought, because it doesn't concern them. It concerns me. They are the lucky ones. The ones who get to learn different fighting styles, the ones who get praise for picking up things quickly. And I won't be one of them. I was never one of them before, but now I'm itching to fight. Itching to train, to use the reflexes that I was born with. But no. I can't. I was never good at swimming, nor was I good at fishing. I was ignored. Sneered at. No one gave a thought to Minnowpaw, the shame of RiverClan. The one who couldn't even swim.

Now though, I could show promise. I was always better on the ground, than in water. Willowstar didn't care though. He was all into keeping the RiverClan namesake even if it meant us losing in battle. He didn't care if I showed promise in the 'ThunderClan' part of things. Then he died suddenly. Some thought murder. I was one of them. Cats were sick of him. He had a closed mind, ignoring everyone else's opinions.

He's the reason I'm a medicine cat. The softy of the clan. The one who only got attention for saving someone. And I hated it. I hated it with a passion. I hated when I siblings would look down on me with pity, no that the Clan focused on the things that I was good at since I was a kit. I hated how Treestar would gently tell me to go to the medicine den or check on the kits when I asked to go training. So I used my initiative. I went when no one was awake. Into the depths of the forest and trained. When people I asked, I said that I had business to do, getting herbs that bloom best at night, or going for a walk to clear my mind.

And they believed it. They never knew that I was slashing away, improving my technique, damning StarClan for giving me this path. They say that StarClan give us a specific path for a reason. I fail to see this reason. So watch me suffer in silence. To see me break down, because my own mother died in my paws because I didn't know what to do to save her. No one else knows.

I stay solitary, I don't indulge in things like making friends, because in the end, caring makes you worse off in the end. ALWAYS. Caring makes you break down, when the tom that you are forbidden to love finds a mate. Caring makes you break down when your own litter mates grow together, but away from you. They find new friends. Friends that can give them advice. Friends that fantasize about future mates and one day becoming leader.

And I'm not one of those friends.

People say to follow my heart. I am following it. My heart is void of compassion. It doesn't know how to love. I follow it a different path. My compassion is hatred, and my friends are ghosts. No one knows how I feel. No one knows what it feels like to have your lifetime ambitions taken away from you, and made impossible. Because no one cares anymore. NO ONE.

I have always trained on my own. With other cats, you can't fight with your full potential, always too scared to hurt them. No one tries hard enough. No one knows that if you try hard enough, then you will achieve your ambitions. I know that, and always have done. I don't have ambitions though. What the point in putting false hope in something. Life is too short to do that. In the end, everyone will die. No one lives forever. It doesn't matter what you are: leader, deputy, medicine cat or warrior…_one day you will die_.

People don't know that I can fight. People ask how I'm built up. Medicine cats don't train they say. And they are right. But me? I'm the exception. I always have been. I'm not normal. They call me strange and weird. I don't care though. They are on the side of the angels. All of them. Shielded from the hatred of the world. Sheilded from the harsh light of reality. All of the names they call me are wrong. All of them. All of them apart from one. That one word that the angels call us. Evil. We don't consider ourselves that.

The Dark Forest doesn't consider themselves that.

FIN

First ImagineClan challenge! Lots of Sherlock references there!


End file.
